The Anger No One Talks About When You’re TTC
To every woman reading this who is just trying—just trying—to have a baby and it feels like everything is against you…
I want to start this blog by sending you love. So much love. Because I know how hard this path is. I see you. I feel your heartbreak, your hope, and your resilience. Whether you’ve never seen a positive pregnancy test or you’ve seen those two lines only to watch your hope unravel weeks later—I’m wrapping my arms around you in compassion.
Trying to conceive (TTC) isn’t just about ovulation windows and tests. It’s about holding your breath every month. About riding an emotional rollercoaster, one that most people don’t even see.
When Hope Turns to Rage
There’s a side of TTC that isn’t often spoken about: the rage. The anger. The heartbreak that turns hot in your chest and makes you want to scream, smash things, or collapse into yourself. It goes beyond heartbreak and sadness.
You’re not alone if you’ve felt this. And more importantly—you’re not a bad person for feeling this.
Infertility is deeply emotional. And anger is part of grief. It’s part of heartbreak.
According to Fertility Society of Australia, up to 1 in 6 couples experience infertility, and the emotional toll is immense—leading to anxiety, depression, isolation, and yes, rage. Testing every month and getting negative after negative chips away at your mental health. Add to that the grief of miscarriage, and it’s a silent storm few can understand.
A Personal Reflection: Month After Month
When I was trying to fall pregnant, the first few months were hard, but manageable. I kept saying to myself:
“Okay… not this month. Maybe next month.”
But after a while, the heartbreak became heavier. Because then I started falling pregnant. And then I started miscarrying. The first time it happened, I was six weeks. The second, eight weeks. Then ten weeks.
Each time, I held it together in the room, pretending I was okay while my insides screamed. But when I got home, I wasn’t okay. The anger exploded out of me. I was beyond sad. I was furious. I smashed things. I threw things. I broke down. And then I hated myself for how I reacted. To me it felt like I was so close to a miracle and yet, it all reset to zero.
But if that’s you, please hear me: you are not overreacting. You are grieving.
“How Did You Overcome It?”
People ask me that now. “How did you move past the anger, the sadness?”
Truth is… I didn’t really “overcome” it in the traditional sense. Life changed. I became single. I stopped trying. Not by choice—but by circumstance. And eventually, the focus shifted. I had to rebuild my life—find a place to live, pay off my debts, focus on my career. The grief didn’t vanish… it just had nowhere to land for a while. The anger softened. It wasn’t triggered anymore. Then, as some of you know, I fell pregnant again.
I fell pregnant with 2 beautiful boys, 6 years apart. But those two pregnancies ended in late pregnancy loss. That was a different kind of grief. A deeper one. A quieter one. And once again, life happened and I had to rebuild again which took my attention away from TTC.
Now, On the Other Side
It’s been 9 years since my last pregnancy. I chose to be single for a very long time for many reasons. I was actually not interested in finding love again. I was happy on my own and so proud of all the things I achieved on my own. I’m now engaged and soon to be married. We’ll probably try for a baby after the wedding. But this time… it’s different.
I’ve healed so much. I’ve found peace with what was and what might never be. I’ve surrendered my fertility to fate, to God, to the universe.
My affirmation these days is: “If it’s meant to be, it will be.”
I’ve already walked the fire. I’ve done the tests. I’ve begged the universe. I’ve cried on bathroom floors. I’ve lived the grief.
Now, if I try and it happens—beautiful. If I try and it ends in loss again—that will be my last try.
And I’m okay with that. Truly. Because I’ve made peace with the possibility that motherhood might not be in this lifetime for me. And that doesn’t mean I’m broken. That means I’ve been transformed.
Let’s Talk About the Anger
There’s a particular kind of rage that builds when your body keeps saying “no” to something your soul longs for. It’s not the kind of anger you can talk about easily, because it often doesn’t sound “reasonable” or “graceful.” But it’s real.
Some women cry so hard they lose their voice.
Some scream into pillows when no one is home.
Some slam cupboard doors, throw tests across the room, or sob while curled up in the shower.
Some go completely silent, numb and disconnected, because the fury is too big to touch.
And some carry it quietly in their shoulders, jaw, womb — never saying a word, but feeling it every day in their body.
This is what unspoken anger can look like. And none of it makes you wrong, ungrateful, or unspiritual.
We are not taught that it’s okay to be angry about fertility struggles. We are told to "stay positive," to "have faith," or "trust the timing of life."
But here’s the truth: anger is a part of grief.
It’s what happens when your hope is repeatedly shattered. It’s the emotion that rises when something deeply unfair happens — over and over again.
The Body Keeps the Score
Energetically and physically, unprocessed anger doesn’t just disappear. It lingers. It settles in the body. It can manifest as:
Tight jaws, clenched fists, grinding teeth
Neck, shoulder, or lower back pain
Digestive issues (especially in the gut — our second brain)
Hormonal imbalances
Hives, or other skin conditions
Chronic fatigue or inflammation
Womb and pelvic tension
In spiritual and energetic terms, anger is often stored in the liver (the organ of suppressed emotion), and in the womb space — the creative and reproductive centre. When we suppress our rage, we block not just emotional flow, but energetic flow. It can weigh us down, disconnect us from our body, and even affect the health of our reproductive system over time. Our cycles may become irregular, our ovulation windows can shift unpredictably or even skip entirely, and our hormones and mood begin to spiral — all because our body's natural rhythm is out of sync, weighed down by the unspoken emotion we’ve been carrying.
When I look back, I can see how much pressure I put on myself to “keep it together.” I didn’t want to seem hysterical or ungrateful. But inside, I was screaming. And it took me a long time to realize that my body was screaming with me. My body was falling apart. I was losing so much hair, my cycles were completely out of rhythm, and I was eventually diagnosed with PCOS — something that only showed up in my 30s. I suffered with IBS-like symptoms where everything made me feel sick, and I became terrified of eating. I was a mess in so many ways, and deep down, I knew it wasn’t just physical. I had the flu all year around and i suffered severe abdominal cramping to the point where I couldn’t move too much.
It was the stress. The suppressed anger. The frustration and the grief I had no space to express. Not because I didn’t want to heal or work through it — I did — but the people around me didn’t want to hear it. I was told I was being too dramatic, too emotional, too much. I was blamed for not being able to fall pregnant or stay pregnant and I was made to feel like I was pretending to have all these symptoms. So I stopped talking. I felt completely unheard and unsupported, like my pain was inconvenient or invalid. And that silence broke me even more.
But guess what? I started feeling better and symptoms were slowly disappearing the moment I walked away from people that refused to be there for me. The minute I started surrounding myself with self love and positive people, my life started to change. It is true when they say “Your environment can make you sick.”
You’re Allowed to Be Angry
You're allowed to feel rage when you get bad news. You’re allowed to hate seeing another negative test. You’re allowed to question the universe, your body, and even your faith. None of that makes you a bad person.
Let it out. Move it through. Write it down. Scream into a towel. Go for a run. Smash a plate (safely). Talk to someone who will hold space without judgment.
The anger is a message from your soul saying, “This hurts more than words can say.”
And when we acknowledge it, without fear or shame, it begins to soften. That’s when healing can truly begin.
Transformation Through Pain
Ten years ago, I was angry, grieving, and lost. Today, I’m softer, wiser, and open.
This is the message I want to leave with you: Life will redirect you. And no, that redirection is not punishment.
It’s not because you did something wrong.
It’s because your soul is being asked to take another path—one that might just be more aligned with who you are becoming.
If you’re in the thick of it right now—the grief, the rage, the frustration—please know this: this season won’t last forever.
You won’t always feel this raw. This broken. This alone.
You’re being reshaped. And when the time is right, you’ll know what your next chapter is meant to be.
Until then, be gentle with yourself. Let yourself feel it all.
And never, ever believe that your anger makes you any less worthy of love, support, or hope.